


Pleasure

by Angel Moon (Angel_Moon)



Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: (Does sex with the undead count as necrophilia?), (sort of), BDSM, Bondage, Multi, Necromancy, Necrophilia, Not sure what archive warnings apply, One Shot, Porn with a smidgen of Plot, Rope Bondage, Smut, sex with zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 20:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11974296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Moon/pseuds/Angel%20Moon
Summary: Lich!Mannimarco needs you to help him with an experiment.The language is gender-neutral. There are 2 versions, for different reader anatomy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For demon and lizard, my inspirations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Version where the reader has breasts and a vulva

Your heart is in your throat. You nearly trip over your own feet in your excitement and anxiety as you follow Mannimarco, your master, your king, down the passageway. You have the honor of having been chosen out of all of his followers to serve your master for a special task, and you're both starstruck and terrified that you'll make a mistake. You wring your hands and quicken your pace to keep up with Mannimarco's long strides.   
  
Before long, he leads you into a small candlelit stone chamber with long wooden table, a cupboard, and a series of ropes suspended from the ceiling on pulleys. It looks like one of the corpse preparation rooms, and you wonder why he has brought you here. He ushers you inside, his golden eyes glinting in a way that gives you shivers, and closes the door behind you, locking it with a key from a ring of many.   
  
"Sit down on the table," he says. His gaze is intense, and you can't hold it for more than a few moments.   
  
You comply with his order. The wood is old pine, warped but rubbed smooth. "Are--" you begin, but instantly realize you've spoken out of turn, and your face goes pale.   
  
"Am I going to kill you?" Mannimarco says, as though he had read your thoughts. "No, that isn't what this is for. I want to... try something."   
  
His voice as he says that makes your stomach flip. It is low and cold, but excited. The way he smiles at you reminds you of a wolf, a hungry predator sizing up its prey. You glance at the door.   
  
"Are you thinking of abandoning your duties?" he asks sharply.   
  
"N-no! Of course not, Master." Your heart pounds in your ears and you feel dizzy with fear.   
  
He smiles and your fear ebbs slightly. "I think you'll rather enjoy this. Remove your clothing."   
  
You imagine that he has a man's needs, even if he is the King of Worms, and the fantasy of helping him satisfy them is one you've had for years. But the idea that it would really happen, and that he would choose someone like you... Surely that can't be true. Surely he wants your body to test the effects of a new alchemical solution, or the efficacy of a new spell, or.... A dozen horrifying scenarios run through your head, and you swallow a knot in your throat as you pull your dark robe gracelessly over your head and dump it on the floor.   
  
"Good. Lie down and we'll begin."   
  
Mannimarco touches you then. His hands on your shoulders are like ice. He guides you down until you're lying flat against the table, and his hands linger for a few moments before he looks away and reaches for the ropes suspended from the ceiling. You notice that some of them end in hooks.   
  
To your relief, he doesn't reach for the hooks but for the plain rope ends. He takes these and loops them around your body. Your wrists are tied behind your back, your ankles are tied to your wrists, and ropes under each your knees lead back to the ceiling. As each rope is tied, his fingers brush your skin, and you shiver in cold and dread and excitement.   
  
When he's finished, Mannimarco pulls on a loose end of the rope, and the loops beneath your knees are pulled up, raising your lower half from the table. The way the ropes are positioned pulls your legs apart, gently but insistently, and you fight to keep your thighs together.   
  
Mannimarco watches you, his eyes cold and his lips curled into a catlike smirk. He sits on the edge of the table and strokes your hair, your cheek, your neck. "You look so beautiful like this, darling," he says softly, "all tied up and helpless. I could do anything I want to you, and there isn't a thing you could do about it." His icy fingers linger on your pulse, and you shiver as though your blood has gone cold. "Go on and struggle. I want to see you try to get free."   
  
You hesitate, then start pulling at the ropes uncertainly. Could you get free if you wanted to? If you did, would he be angry with you? You try to make it look like you're fighting to get free, but don't actually try very hard.   
  
"No." He stands up and you freeze. "You're not even trying. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"   
  
"I'm-- I'm sorry, Master, I wasn't--"   
  
He slaps your face and you stop talking. Your cheek stings.   
  
"Let me give you some motivation."   
  
Mannimarco holds his hands up and a pair of bluish lights form at his palms, flickering and crackling softly. Your heart nearly stops. He smiles, the blue light glinting on his canines, and he reaches for you.   
  
No! You twist away, but he lays his palm across your hip.   
  
Pain! All at once, a boiling, seething burn radiates from your hip down your leg and up through your chest into your head. He rests his other hand on your breast, and the pain doubles. Your body is on fire and a horrible weight presses down on your chest. You can't think, you can't breathe, you can't do anything but scream and thrash on the table to get away from the pain.   
  
After what feels like hours, he pulls his hands away, and the room begins to come back into focus. Your skin is white where he touched it and your entire body is soaked in sweat. Your legs lie apart freely, and part of you feels ashamed, but you don't have the energy to close them.   
  
Mannimarco is smirking. He reaches for your face and laughs as you turn your head away. He catches your forehead under his palm -- thankfully his spell has ended -- and presses your head down on the table. His cold touch is oddly soothing. He brushes away the hair that sticks to your forehead. "That was a spectacular effort. Well done, my sweet."   
  
Is he-- yes, he's praising you. Your master is praising you, and through the haze of fear and remembered pain, a warmth spreads through your body. This is what you live for, after all. You live to serve him.   
  
His hands slide down your skin, across your shoulders, your breasts, your hips, and he leans down to lay a trail of kisses after them. Your body seems to hum in pleasure. "The living body is a wonderful thing," Mannimarco murmurs, sitting up, his fingertips still tracing your skin, "capable of such depth of sensation. I can barely remember what it was like, to be burned by a candle, to taste a fine meal, to fall over the edge in a lover's arms."   
  
You want to tell him that he is magnificent whether his body is living or dead, but he slips a finger between your legs and presses on your clitoris and all that escapes your lips is a moan. Your pleasure seems heightened, perhaps because of the contrast with the earlier pain. You twist your hips to press yourself harder on his hand.   
  
"But you can feel these things, can't you? All of life's pain and pleasure is yours to enjoy."   
  
He moves his other hand against you, rubbing, circling, and you gasp as he slides a long finger inside you. It's so cold, but the coldness excites you, makes you hyperaware of every motion he makes with it as he flexes it gently against your front wall and--   
  
Smack! The hand that had been working at your clitoris comes down with full force directly between your legs, and you cry out and jerk backwards in surprise. Oh, but even so, the finger he has still inside you is settling on your g-spot and he's rubbing it ever so gently, like a violinist testing his strings. His free hand is back at your clitoris, holding it between two fingertips and rolling them together to match the rhythm of his other finger inside you.   
  
The whole time Mannimarco has those glorious yellow eyes focused between your legs. You imagine how wet and swollen you must be by now, how you must be dripping all over your master's hands, and the embarrassment, the idea of him seeing these most intimate and animalistic reactions of your body, only makes it worse. Tingles begin coursing down your legs and you can't hold back your voice any longer.   
  
"Please..." you moan. "Please, Master, please don't stop... I'm so..."   
  
He pulls his fingers from you. You whine and move your hips against the ropes, desperately trying to reach any sensation and finding nothing. He laughs, a cold sound, and tears prick your eyes as you writhe fruitlessly.   
  
"Beg me some more," he purrs.   
  
You cry out, nearly a shriek, in frustration, and your voice is high and heavy with need as you follow his command.   
  
"Please, let me... unhhh... Please let me come, Master... p-please... I... I need you...."   
  
And Mannimarco obliges. He jams two fingers into your quivering opening and pushes his thumb against your clit, and you scream as a wave of pleasure washes over you, tears streaming down your cheeks, your entire body spasming.   
  
And then it's over. As the pleasure fades, you open your eyes, and your gaze meets his. He still has that hungry look, now even more desperate than before, and you wonder vaguely what else he has in store for you. You aren't sure how much more your body will be able to take.   
  
"That was good. Very good," he murmurs. "You're wonderfully sensitive. You should be perfect."   
  
You feel... excitement? Dread? Everything is blurring together, but you feel  _ something _ that makes your heart skip a beat. Perfect for what?   
  
Mannimarco pulls from his robes a small object wrapped in purple silk. "I've been working on an enchantment," he tells you, "and you're going to help me test it."   
  
Your curiosity is piqued and you raise your head to look at the object in his hand. What kind of enchantment could he be working on that requires testing on someone sensitive? You wonder nervously.   
  
He unfolds the fabric and holds up a gleaming golden torc, glowing with magicka.   
  
"What does it do?" you say quietly, forgetting yourself for a moment.   
  
But Mannimarco doesn't seem to mind; his smile widens at the question. "We'll see, my lovely," he says, and he fastens it around your neck.    
  
You bite your lip, preparing for whatever sensory onslaught is going to follow, but nothing seems to be happening. You open your eyes and the man above you is standing still. "Oh," he says softly.   
  
Then, without warning, he draws back his hand and slaps you across the cheek. You cry out, but there's another sound behind your voice -- his voice? When you open your eyes, he's rubbing his cheek, looking shocked.   
  
When he sees your confused glance, he breaks into a wider smile than you've seen, and his eyes seem to dance in the candlelight. "It worked," he says, his voice unusual. "I felt that." He reaches for you again, and you try your best not to flinch.   
  
But he doesn't hit you. Mannimarco caresses you, running his hands across your breasts and shoulders, his eyes half-closed. He rolls your nipples under his fingers and sighs, then takes one into his mouth and moans against your skin as his icy tongue presses against your sensitive flesh. The sound sends pleasant jolts through your body.   
  
He stops for a moment, then leans down between your legs. His lips are like ice against yours, and you inhale sharply as he swirls his tongue around your entrance, moaning openly against you the whole time. You moan, too; it feels amazing, and the sound he's making...! He sucks your clitoris into his mouth, and you see stars.   
  
Then he steps back, panting, and fumbles with a rope dangling from the ceiling. You're dropped, after a few moments, back onto the table. Immediately he's there again, his eyes burning with terrible need, tearing open the front of his robe and kneeling on the table between your legs. His cock is in his hand and hard and dripping on your thighs, and you squirm with delight and anticipation. You almost can't believe that this is happening, that he, Mannimarco, is about to fuck  _ you _ .   
  
Mannimarco rubs the head of his cock between your labia for a few moments, biting his lip, then wraps his hands around your hips and drives himself into you with a suddenness that blurs the line between pain and pleasure. You gasp, and so does he.   
  
You arch your hips upward as he begins to move in and out of you, trying to pull him deeper with every thrust, and you both moan as the change in angle presses his pubic bone against your clit. The coldness deep inside you makes you shiver in pleasure. You need more,  _ more _ of him, deeper, faster....   
  
Mannimarco sits back and pulls you onto his lap. Your own weight impales you on his cock even deeper than before. The ropes tied around you limit your movement, but he wraps his hands around your thighs and moves you up and down as though you weighed nothing at all. You realize that he's essentially using you as a masturbation toy, and you blush, feeling yourself twitch in pleasure around him at the thought.   
  
A tingle begins building deep inside you, and Mannimarco begins to mutter between moans. "N-na mara... a fiiretye nin, molanya... m-mol-- ah pucta--!" You don't know much Altmeris, but you don't need to to know that he's as lost in pleasure as you are. Then he bends down and bites your nipple, and--   
  
Mannimarco clings to you as you both fall over the edge, shouting and shaking and spasming against one another. It feels like a dance, the way that every twitch of his cock inside you makes you pulse around him, and every pulse of your pleasure makes him gasp.   
  
Finally, the ecstasy subsides, and you're both left panting and dizzy. He lays next to you on the table, breathing heavily. He's so beautiful, you think to yourself, and you're honored to have laid with him.   
  
Mannimarco opens his eyes and meets your gaze, then pulls you into his arms. The ropes fall away, freeing you, and you wrap yourself around him, delighting in the contact. "Thank you, Master," you whisper to him.   
  
His reply is a kiss. His mouth tastes of blood and decay, and it's the most wonderful thing you've ever tasted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Version where the reader has a dick

Your heart is in your throat. You nearly trip over your own feet in your excitement and anxiety as you follow Mannimarco, your master, your king, down the passageway. You have the honor of having been chosen out of all of his followers to serve your master for a special task, and you're both starstruck and terrified that you'll make a mistake. You wring your hands and quicken your pace to keep up with Mannimarco's long strides.  
  
Before long, he leads you into a small candlelit stone chamber with long wooden table, a cupboard, and a series of ropes suspended from the ceiling on pulleys. It looks like one of the corpse preparation rooms, and you wonder why he has brought you here. He ushers you inside, his golden eyes glinting in a way that gives you shivers, and closes the door behind you, locking it with a key from a ring of many.   
  
"Sit down on the table," he says. His gaze is intense, and you can't hold it for more than a few moments.   
  
You comply with his order. The wood is old pine, warped but rubbed smooth. "Are--" you begin, but instantly realize you've spoken out of turn, and your face goes pale.   
  
"Am I going to kill you?" Mannimarco says, as though he had read your thoughts. "No, that isn't what this is for. I want to... try something."   
  
His voice as he says that makes your stomach flip. It is low and cold, but excited. The way he smiles at you reminds you of a wolf, a hungry predator sizing up its prey. You glance at the door.   
  
"Are you thinking of abandoning your duties?" he asks sharply.   
  
"N-no! Of course not, Master." Your heart pounds in your ears and you feel dizzy with fear.   
  
He smiles and your fear ebbs slightly. "I think you'll rather enjoy this. Remove your clothing."   
  
You imagine that he has a man's needs, even if he is the King of Worms, and the fantasy of helping him satisfy them is one you've had for years. But the idea that it would really happen, and that he would choose someone like you... Surely that can't be true. Surely he wants your body to test the effects of a new alchemical solution, or the efficacy of a new spell, or.... A dozen horrifying scenarios run through your head, and you swallow a knot in your throat as you pull your dark robe gracelessly over your head and dump it on the floor.   
  
"Good. Lie down and we'll begin."   
  
Mannimarco touches you then. His hands on your shoulders are like ice. He guides you down until you're lying flat against the table, and his hands linger for a few moments before he looks away and reaches for the ropes suspended from the ceiling. You notice that some of them end in hooks.   
  
To your relief, he doesn't reach for the hooks but for the plain rope ends. He takes these and loops them around your body. Your wrists are tied behind your back, your ankles are tied to your wrists, and ropes under each your knees lead back to the ceiling. As each rope is tied, his fingers brush your skin, and you shiver in cold and dread and excitement.   
  
When he's finished, Mannimarco pulls on a loose end of the rope, and the loops beneath your knees are pulled up, raising your lower half from the table. The way the ropes are positioned pull your legs apart and your hips back, and you blush at the way your half-hard sex is on display.  
  
Mannimarco watches you, his eyes cold and his lips curled into a catlike smirk. He sits on the edge of the table and strokes your hair, your cheek, your neck. "You look so beautiful like this, darling," he says softly, "all tied up and helpless. I could do anything I want to you, and there isn't a thing you could do about it." His icy fingers linger on your pulse, and you shiver as though your blood has gone cold. "Go on and struggle. I want to see you try to get free."   
  
You hesitate, then start pulling at the ropes uncertainly. Could you get free if you wanted to? If you did, would he be angry with you? You try to make it look like you're fighting to get free, but don't actually try very hard.   
  
"No." He stands up and you freeze. "You're not even trying. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"   
  
"I'm-- I'm sorry, Master, I wasn't--"   
  
He slaps your face and you stop talking. Your cheek stings.   
  
"Let me give you some motivation."   
  
Mannimarco holds his hands up and a pair of bluish lights form at his palms, flickering and crackling softly. Your heart nearly stops. He smiles, the blue light glinting on his canines, and he reaches for you.   
  
No! You twist away, but he lays his palm across your hip.   
  
Pain! All at once, a boiling, seething burn radiates from your hip down your leg and up through your chest into your head. He rests his other hand on your chest, and the pain doubles. Your body is on fire and a horrible weight presses down on your ribs. You can't think, you can't breathe, you can't do anything but scream and thrash on the table to get away from the pain.   
  
After what feels like hours, he pulls his hands away, and the room begins to come back into focus. Your skin is white where he touched it and your entire body is soaked in sweat. Your organ is stiffer than before, and part of you feels ashamed.  
  
Mannimarco is smirking. He reaches for your face and laughs as you turn your head away. He catches your forehead under his palm -- thankfully his spell has ended -- and presses your head down on the table. His cold touch is oddly soothing. He brushes away the hair that sticks to your forehead. "That was a spectacular effort. Well done, my sweet."   
  
Is he-- yes, he's praising you. Your master is praising you, and through the haze of fear and remembered pain, a warmth spreads through your body. This is what you live for, after all. You live to serve him.   
  
His hands slide down your skin, across your shoulders, your chest, your hips, and he leans down to lay a trail of kisses after them. Your body seems to hum in pleasure. "The living body is a wonderful thing," Mannimarco murmurs, sitting up, his fingertips still tracing your skin, "capable of such depth of sensation. I can barely remember what it was like, to be burned by a candle, to taste a fine meal, to fall over the edge in a lover's arms."   
  
You want to tell him that he is magnificent whether his body is living or dead, but his hand has reached your groin and he's squeezing you, and all that escapes your lips is a moan. Your pleasure seems heightened, perhaps because of the contrast with the earlier pain. You twist your hips to press yourself harder on his hand.   
  
"But you can feel these things, can't you? All of life's pain and pleasure is yours to enjoy."   
  
He moves his other hand against you, rubbing, circling, and you gasp as he slides a long finger inside you. It's so cold, but the coldness excites you, makes you hyperaware of every motion he makes with it as he flexes it gently against your insides and--   
  
Smack! The hand that had been working at your member comes down with full force directly on your balls, and you cry out and jerk backwards in surprise and pain. Oh, but even so, the finger he has still inside you is settling on your prostate and he's rubbing it ever so gently, like a violinist testing his strings. His free hand is back at your cock, his palm against your head, rubbing and pulling to match the rhythm of his other finger inside you.   
  
The whole time Mannimarco has those glorious yellow eyes focused between your legs. You watch a drop of precum slip from you and land on your master's hand, and the embarrassment, the idea of him seeing these most intimate and animalistic reactions of your body, only makes it worse. Tingles begin coursing down your legs and you can't hold back your voice any longer.   
  
"Please..." you moan. "Please, Master, please don't stop... I'm so..."   
  
He pulls his hands from you. You whine and move your hips against the ropes, desperately trying to reach any sensation and finding nothing. He laughs, a cold sound, and tears prick your eyes as you writhe fruitlessly.   
  
"Beg me some more," he purrs.   
  
You cry out, nearly a shriek, in frustration, and your voice is high and heavy with need as you follow his command.   
  
"Please, let me... unhhh... Please let me come, Master... p-please... I... I need you...."   
  
And Mannimarco obliges. He jams two fingers into your quivering opening and gives your member a hard stroke, and you scream as a wave of pleasure washes over you, tears streaming down your cheeks, your entire body spasming.  
  
And then it's over. As the pleasure fades, you open your eyes and are embarrassed to see your master wiping your cum off his face. He still has that hungry look, now even more desperate than before, and you wonder vaguely what else he has in store for you. You aren't sure how much more your body will be able to take.   
  
"That was good. Very good," he murmurs. "You're wonderfully sensitive. You should be perfect."   
  
You feel... excitement? Dread? Everything is blurring together, but you feel  _something_ that makes your heart skip a beat. Perfect for what?   
  
Mannimarco pulls from his robes a small object wrapped in purple silk. "I've been working on an enchantment," he tells you, "and you're going to help me test it."   
  
Your curiosity is piqued and you raise your head to look at the object in his hand. What kind of enchantment could he be working on that requires testing on someone sensitive? You wonder nervously.   
  
He unfolds the fabric and holds up a gleaming golden torc, glowing with magicka.   
  
"What does it do?" you say quietly, forgetting yourself for a moment.   
  
But Mannimarco doesn't seem to mind; his smile widens at the question. "We'll see, my lovely," he says, and he fastens it around your neck.   
  
You bite your lip, preparing for whatever sensory onslaught is going to follow, but nothing seems to be happening. You open your eyes and the man above you is standing still. "Oh," he says softly.   
  
Then, without warning, he draws back his hand and slaps you across the cheek. You cry out, but there's another sound behind your voice -- his voice? When you open your eyes, he's rubbing his cheek, looking shocked.   
  
When he sees your confused glance, he breaks into a wider smile than you've seen, and his eyes seem to dance in the candlelight. "It worked," he says, his voice unusual. "I felt that." He reaches for you again, and you try your best not to flinch.   
  
But he doesn't hit you. Mannimarco caresses you, running his hands across your chest and shoulders, his eyes half-closed. He rolls your nipples under his fingers and sighs, then takes one into his mouth and moans against your skin as his icy tongue presses against your sensitive flesh. The sound sends pleasant jolts through your body.   
  
He stops for a moment, then leans down between your legs. His lips are like ice against your skin, and you inhale sharply as he swirls his tongue around your glans, moaning openly against you the whole time. You moan, too; it feels amazing, and the sound he's making...! He sucks your dick into his mouth, and you see stars.   
  
Then he steps back, panting, and fumbles with a rope dangling from the ceiling. You're dropped, after a few moments, back onto the table. Immediately he's there again, his eyes burning with terrible need, tearing open the front of his robe and kneeling on the table between your legs. His cock is in his hand and hard and dripping on your thighs, and you squirm with delight and anticipation. You almost can't believe that this is happening, that he, Mannimarco, is about to fuck  _you_.   
  
Mannimarco rubs the head of his cock between your cheeks for a few moments, biting his lip, then wraps his hands around your hips and drives himself into you with a suddenness that blurs the line between pain and pleasure. You gasp, and so does he.   
  
You arch your hips upward as he begins to move in and out of you, trying to pull him deeper with every thrust, and you both moan as the change in angle presses hmm agaibst you. The coldness deep inside you makes you shiver in pleasure. You need more,  _more_ of him, deeper, faster....   
  
Mannimarco sits back and pulls you onto his lap. Your own weight impales you on his cock even deeper than before. The ropes tied around you limit your movement, but he wraps his hands around your thighs and moves you up and down as though you weighed nothing at all. You realize that he's essentially using you as a masturbation toy, and you blush, feeling yourself twitch in pleasure around him at the thought.   
  
A tingle begins building deep inside you, and Mannimarco begins to mutter between moans. "N-na mara... a fiiretye nin, molanya... m-mol-- ah pucta--!" You don't know much Altmeris, but you don't need to to know that he's as lost in pleasure as you are. Then he bends down and bites your nipple, and--   
  
Mannimarco clings to you as you both fall over the edge, shouting and shaking and spasming against one another. It feels like a dance, the way that every twitch of his cock inside you makes you shoot another burst, and every pulse of your pleasure makes him gasp.   
  
Finally, the ecstasy subsides, and you're both left panting and dizzy. He lays next to you on the table, breathing heavily. He's so beautiful, you think to yourself, and you're honored to have laid with him.  
  
Mannimarco opens his eyes and meets your gaze, then gestures to the mess of your semen clinging to his smooth stomach. You don't need to ask what he wants; you bend down and lick him clean. When you're finished, he takes you into his arms. The ropes fall away, freeing you, and you wrap yourself around him, delighting in the contact. "Thank you, Master," you whisper to him.   
  
His reply is a kiss. His mouth tastes of blood and decay, and it's the most wonderful thing you've ever tasted.


End file.
